Better to be Wounded, Than Always to Walk in Armor
by IShouldBeWriting
Summary: Becker would willingly fight many battles for Jess. The battle within his own mind is as good a place to start as any. This is a continuation of my series of Becker/Jess shorts.  Follows after "Where Love Blooms"


It seems that it is madder never to abandon one's self than often to be infatuated; better to be wounded, a captive and a slave, than always to walk in armor.

Margaret Fuller

"Has she always been like this?" Jess asked with a nod toward Abby, who was sitting on the other side of the lab's glass wall calmly taking notes as one of the menagerie's inhabitants tried vainly to bash through the armored glass.

"How do you mean?" Becker hadn't been paying attention to Abby, rather taking advantage of Jess' distraction to watch her instead.

She had no idea that moments like this still left him breathless with the intimacy of sharing this quiet conversation together. Weeks had passed since he'd openly declared his desire for her. They were both still tentatively feeling their way around the edges of mutual attraction and Becker was silently waging a battle against his own psyche. The primal need he'd always had to safeguard his teammates went much deeper where Jess was concerned. He knew without a shred of doubt that he wanted to hold her, touch her, in ways that had absolutely nothing to do with protection. He wanted this, wanted her, so very badly.

A few times he'd been so bold as to stroke her hair away from her face, lace his fingers together with hers briefly, slide a hand across her lower back as he ushered her through a door. Each time she leaned welcomingly into his touch made his heart seized tight. But reflexively he'd retreat from allowing those tiny touches to progress into something more. Each time he retreated the broken fragments inside his head sliced and shredded his resolve. He both feared and welcomed the unraveling of his control.

His mother and father had raised him to be a gentleman. A gentleman didn't take advantage of a lady. And a gentleman didn't share more physical intimacy with a woman than was publicly decent before they'd courted for a while, made a soundly considered decision and asked her father's permission to marry. Time spent in seminary when he'd seriously contemplated lifelong celibacy had reinforced the twisted etiquette inside his head. His family had such great expectations of him. The weight of responsibility made him deny the desires of his body in favor of the calling he'd thought he had to God's service. In the military the disgusting behavior of men under his command when it came to their treatment of women reinforced his resolve to remain apart from it all. The aristocrat in him knew that he was better than that, and his ego heaped those thoughts high atop the pile of prohibitions implanted so long ago by his strictly conservative parents.

That towering heap of inhibitions had shattered upon his return from Afghanistan. As a grown man he discovered that his parents hated each other and both of them had cheated on their marriage throughout his childhood. Seeing them clearly for the first time in his life in disgust Becker had sworn that he'd never repeat their mistakes. Either he'd remain aloof and alone in the world or wait for a woman he knew he loved beyond reason.

While he knew that he loved Jess enough to be terrified every time they touched, a cynical part of Becker's head still whispered insidiously. He held back waiting for some sign that he was making the right choice. And thankfully Jess seemed blissfully ignorant of the civil war she'd begun inside him.

A not too gentle elbow to the ribs brought him out of his maudlin.

"Are you with me, Becker?" Jess' voice held a note of concern.

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically, "got caught up in my own head."

Jess returned his smile pensively then turned back to watching Abby on the other side of the glass.

"Has she always been like this," she asked, "so utterly fearless?"

"Can't really tell you about before we met, but the Abby I know has always been very brave."

Jess sighed wistfully and the hero worship in her expression was written plainly for him to see.

"I could never be that way. I'm better off working from the nice safe distance of the ARC."

And in a rush of memory Becker saw the flaw in Jess' logic.

"I know you've read the ARC's files, Jess," he started out hesitantly. "You know as well as any of us that another Johnson or Leek could pose a direct threat from inside the ARC again someday."

Jess bit her lower lip thoughtfully and Becker momentarily regretted having pointed out the flaw in her logic. Watching her plump lower lip uncurl sensuously from beneath her teeth, Becker was struck by a sudden inspiration.

"I'm told even Abby needed a bit of self defense and weapons training when she started in spite of all those kickboxing classes."

Jess looked at him curiously, waiting to see where his thoughts were leading.

"Why don't you let me teach you? I know Matt's been after you about it for a while. Besides, it'd make me feel better knowing you can take care of yourself until I can get to you."

Jess smiled and nodded, mutely slipping her hand into his as they both turned back to watch Abby. Becker's thumb stroked idly back and forth across the back of her hand. After a few more minutes, Jess silently pulled their joined hands behind her back, put her hand on top of his, and slid it firmly to rest on the curve of her hip. Without a word she tucked her body firmly into the crook of his arm and Becker reveled in her trusting touch as the demons within his own mind chose to remain silent.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love." Neil Gaiman


End file.
